


Promises

by Lossefalme



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lossefalme/pseuds/Lossefalme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Shepard and Alenko refuse to make promises they can't keep, even as the final battle against the Reapers looms on the horizon of an already broken Earth.  They couldn't promise eachother they'd stay alive, but just because it isn't spoken doesn't mean the promise isn't made.  Commander Elizabeth Shepard has saved so many people throughout her career, and now, as everything comes to a head, her friends will gather together to save her... (Slightly altered Mass Effect 3 Extended Cut DLC content and ending, Leviathan DLC content briefly mentioned.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promises

**Author's Note:**

> AMAZING art for this piece created by the very talented Cadkinn!!! Soooo happy to have had her working on a piece for this fic, I couldn't be happier with the results! THANK YOU!  
> MANY THANKS also to my lovely beta Sin'vraal, who, despite a large heaping helping of stuff to do on her own plate, still managed to help me whip this thing into shape on a rather tight deadline!!!  
> YOU ARE BOTH THE BEST!  
> This fic was created for the Mass Effect Big Bang 2012!!

* * *

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: "Mind Heist" by Zack Hemsey

* * *

 

Promises.

A lot of people had promised Kaidan a lot of things throughout his life.  His mother had promised that he was still normal that first day the blue-black distortion had rippled off his body and broken her favorite teapot.  The men in suits who had shown up at his house a few years later had promised everything would be okay if he just enrolled in their special training program.  The surgeons had promised the implant wouldn’t hurt.  Vyrnnus had promised to make him into a soldier or kill him trying.  The Alliance had promised a career where his talents could be fully utilized without being feared.

Alenko didn’t make promises.

They were only good for getting broken.  And he wouldn’t make a promise he couldn’t keep.

A banshee’s wail pierced the air, raising the hairs on his neck and setting his teeth on edge.  He felt the creature’s biotic power even from a distance, like pulses of electricity coursing over his nerves.  Fingernails scraping a chalkboard.  A chill racing down his spine.  He clenched his teeth together and rose above his cover – a pile of rubble that had once been the front face of the apartment complex to his right – firing his assault rifle in the direction of the noise.

“We’re in the shit now, Commander!” Vega shouted from somewhere to his left, and Kaidan felt a bizarre urge to pistol-whip the lieutenant for bothering to state something so blatantly obvious.

No one needed a reminder of their current situation.

Marauders had formed a perimeter, hemming them in.  Banshees were coming down from the left and right, and the hulking, growling forms of three brutes charged down the stairs ahead with reckless speed, heedless of the husks they trampled underfoot on the way to their quarry.

Alenko swore as a banshee biotically jumped to within feet of Shepard.  She swung around calmly, her face a mask of concentration, and lit up the asari-beast’s shields with several well-placed blasts from her shotgun.  The banshee swelled a magnificent blue, preparing to unleash one of its stunning attacks.

“Vega, get those brutes!” he yelled, scrambling up the pile of rubble to get a clear shot.

Enemy fire slammed against his shields.  He hastily reinforced them with his own biotic barrier, dropping his rifle to his feet and yanking his pistol from his hip.  He sighted down the scope.  Perfect head-shot.  One, two, three.

The banshee shrieked again, whirling to face him.

An explosion rocked the night from somewhere behind him, heat rushing past him on the shock wave, making him stumble.

A mechanical yowl echoed through the ruins of the street, bouncing off of broken walls.

“Alenko, down!”  Vakarian’s voice barked through his helmet and the major threw himself sideways.  He hit with a grunt and rolled over chunks of concrete and twisted rebar to land in a heap just as the crack of a sniper rifle finally put the banshee close to Shepard down for good.

But there was no time to celebrate.  No time to rest.

They had to stay alive.  Protect the rockets.  Just long enough for EDI to complete the uplink to the _Normandy's_ guidance systems.

Alenko pushed himself into a crouch, bringing up his pistol to aim for the nearest brute.  Vega was dancing with it, dodging the giant claws as he fired into its chest with his rifle, shouting dares and insults at it the whole time.  Kaidan drew himself up, gathering his focus for one precious second, then threw out a stasis hold.  The biotics held the thing just long enough for Vega to put some distance between him and it, and then the lieutenant under-handed another grenade right at the creature’s massive feet.

Kaidan ducked away from the blast this time, but that only brought his gaze back to Shepard, who still stood well-covered, switching her aim from one marauder to the next, cutting them down with methodical precision.  But they couldn’t last forever.  Most of the team they’d come with had already gone down.  The way behind them was littered with the dead and dying, with blood and tears and sweat, and there was still a whole Reaper ahead of them, blocking their way to the Conduit.

He tried hard to fight the rise of hopelessness, the choking despair that clogged his throat.

His eyes went back to Shepard.

She didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep, either.

Back in the relative calm and safety of the London FOB, before they had started this mad charge for the Conduit, he had tried to get her to promise him that she would be careful.  At least _try_ to stay alive.  He hadn’t been foolish enough to expect her to promise that she would.  But she could at least try to keep herself out of impossible situations.  She could at least _hope_ to survive.

“ _I’ll wait for you,”_ was all he had gotten from her.  _“And you’d damn well better be there to meet me.”_

But he didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

Maybe he should have promised, just this once. 

Would it have made any difference?  Would it have made him feel any more certain, now in this moment when the noose seemed to be tightening, when all escape had been cut off, that they would somehow make it out alive?  Or would it have just made everything worse… made his last moments full of pain and regret over having had the arrogance to declare something he couldn’t possibly really control?  Something that had turned out to be a lie.

There was no time to worry about that now.  Husks were swarming their position.  Kaidan threw out a wall of dark energy, sweeping many of them aside to smash into walls with a splattering of green gore. 

They just had to survive.  One step at a time.

So maybe he hadn’t promised Shepard anything, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his damnedest to see them all through to the other side.

*

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Field of Ruin

* * *

 CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: "Dream is Collapsing" by Hans Zimmer

* * *

They ran for it.

Harbinger stared them right in the face, the panels of its so-called head shifting to reveal that cursed red eye of death, the heavy charge-up whine of the beam rising even above the roar of the tanks that rumbled by on all sides of them.

They charged anyway.  It was a game of numbers now.  Harbinger couldn’t stop them all.  Someone had to make it through… someone _had_ to…

Harbinger fired, the resonating blast of its laser vibrating through Kaidan’s chest and the soles of his feet as they pounded across the open stretch of ground.  Ahead of him, Shepard completely ignored it.  They all tried to ignore the wash of heat that came rippling back across on the acrid breeze, the clatter of rock and concrete and body parts that fell all around them. 

They just kept running.

A tank to their right exploded, somersaulting high into the air.  They didn’t flinch.  Didn’t break stride.  They kept their eyes locked resolutely on the bright light of the Conduit, sprinting with every ounce of effort and speed their lifetimes of military training had afforded them.

Another deafening blast from Harbinger and the ground beneath their boots trembled.  Vega barely ducked a hurtling tire; Garrus jumped a body lying across his path.  Shepard stumbled, slowing, and suddenly Harbinger’s beam cut a swath right toward them.  Kaidan saw it from his peripheral vision, felt the searing heat, squinted as the brightness of it watered his eyes even through the automatic darkening of his helmet’s visor.

Too fast and too wide to dodge. 

_NO!_

He swept an arm out in a hasty mnemonic, and his wall of dark energy hit Shepard from the left, flinging her away as if she were nothing more than a paper doll.  The edges of the field caught Vega and Garrus too, tripping them up as the gravity in front of them shifted unexpectedly. 

Kaidan was vaguely aware of them both falling flat to their faces before his world exploded into blinding agony.

*

Shepard slammed into the side of a wrecked tank, the air crushing from her lungs, HUD flickering, and fell to the ground in a heap.  She knew immediately what had happened, and even as she pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, gasping for air with lungs that wouldn’t expand, her eyes raked the field of ruin.  Trying to find him.

His transponder icon flashed red and her heart shoved into her throat even as she shoved herself to her feet.  She stumbled in the direction of his locator, but she heard him before she saw him.

His screams stood out above all the others.  She knew his voice so well… and she had never heard him sound like this.  She ran to him, dropping to her knees beside him at the edge of the crater Harbinger’s beam had made, and her blood turned to ice, her vision suddenly swimming.

A noise like a sob escaped her before she could clamp down on the panic, but her hands were already working.  She lit her omni-tool, running a body scan, her free hand fishing for one of the morphine hypos on her belt.  She tried not to focus on his melted armor, the burns, the blood, the iron grip of the hand that clutched her forearm.

“Shepard,” he gasped.

She looked up from the scan and locked eyes with him.  “You’re fine,” she blurted, ignoring the scrolling list of injuries running across her omni-tool.  “Just fine.  Hang in there… everything will be fine.”

 

 (Art by [Cadkinn](http://cadkinn.deviantart.com/)!)

She tried to inject the morphine but he knocked her hand away.  “Forget about me,” he ground out.  His breath came in short, hard gasps, sweat beading on his forehead.  He was so pale… much too pale…

“Get… get to the goddamn Conduit!”

The roar of Harbinger’s beam rumbled around and beneath them and the sharp crack of more explosions rocked the night.  Garrus and Vega appeared, crouching in cover positions without a word, bloodied and battered but still on their feet.  Shepard didn’t like the looks on their faces.

“Get out of here!” Kaidan barked, his eyes fierce.  “You’re making yourself… an easy target!  All that matters is getting to that damn Conduit!”  He clenched his teeth and shuddered, another cry of pain wrenching from his throat.  “Damnit, Shepard,” he wheezed.  “ _Go!_ ”

She caught the wrist of the hand that was trying to push her away and jabbed the morphine into the side of his thigh, between the warped panels of his armor, through the soft mesh of the undersuit.  It would have been more effective to feed it directly into his armor’s medical system, but she didn’t trust that any of his hardsuit’s assist platforms were working anymore.  “Vega, Vakarian,” she said without looking up.  “Stick to the plan.  Head for the Conduit.  Get aboard the Citadel at all costs and open those arms.”  She could feel their stares, but she paid them no attention.  “You heard me.  Go.  Now!”

Vega shifted, hesitating.  “Commander…”

Her eyes snapped up to his face, glaring with all the ferocity she could muster.  “I said _now_ , soldier!”

He blinked, his jaw clenching.  “Aye aye, ma’am.”  He glanced to Garrus.  The turian nodded, and the two of them moved off, half-jogging, half-limping.  She allowed herself to watch after them for a moment, willing them success with every iota of her being, before turning back to Kaidan.

“No,” he choked out, still trying to push her away.  “Please, Elizabeth.  You have to… you have to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she breathed, instinctively ducking as yet another tank blew apart, scattering shrapnel to bounce and roll mere feet away.  She keyed her comm and reached down to deactivate the seal of his helmet, gently prying it off his head.  Static crackled in her ear and she winced, scanning frequencies.  “ _Normandy_ , do you copy?” she shouted above the noise of chaos.  “ _Normandy_ , do you read?  We need an evac!”

Kaidan’s dark eyes widened.  “ _What the hell are you doing_?”

“Getting you out of here.”  Only static answered her question and she switched to EDI’s channel.  “EDI, I need you to boost my comm signal.  I need to reach the _Normandy_!”

“I will do my best, Shepard, but the interference from the Conduit –“

“Just do whatever you can.  Hurry!”

“Shepard, no, you can’t!”  Kaidan made a move to push himself up but swiftly dropped back down with a shout, then fell into a fit of coughing, blood rattling in his throat.

Another spike of panic stabbed deep into Shepard’s gut and she touched her comm again.  “Damnit, EDI, I need the _Normandy now_!”

“Try it again, Commander.”

 **“** _Normandy_ do you read?”  Her voice broke and she tried to force herself to breathe.  Kaidan shuddered beneath the hand she rested on his melted chest-plate.  “ _Normandy_ , come in, we need an immediate evac!”

A sharp crackle, then Joker’s voice; breaking up – but there.  “Copy… Commander!  Under heavy…. May take me…  soon as I can!”

 **“** Have Doctor Chakwas and a medical team standing by!” Shepard yelled back, just before the connection terminated with an electronic squeal that made her teeth hurt.  Shit.  At least the _Normandy_ was coming.  That’s all that really mattered….

She pulled medi-gel from her belt, hastily applying it to the worst of Kaidan’s burns, ignoring how badly her hands were shaking, ignoring the impossibly slow crawl of time as she waited, hunkered over his prone form as if she could hide both of them from Harbinger’s view.

His brown eyes were glassy, staring up at the swirling clouds, his jaw clenched.  His hand gripped hers so hard her fingers tingled, but she wasn’t about to let go.  She would keep him here by force alone if she had to.  She wasn’t going to let him go.

“ _Goddamnit_ , Kaidan,” she hissed, leaning close.  “You stupid son-of-a-bitch!  What the hell were you _thinking_?!”

His gaze shifted toward her, but without focus.  The barest of smiles twitched his lips.  “Pay – Payback’s a b-bitch, huh?”

She shook her head vigorously, but before she could tell him that no way in hell would she allow him payback, the roar of familiar engines bore down on their location.  A shuttle zipped by overhead, taking a few pot-shots at Harbinger.  Just enough to piss it off so that its giant red eye swung away from the _Normandy_ as the frigate nimbly descended, the bay doors already opening.  The ship was the most beautiful sight Elizabeth Shepard had ever seen.

“ – hurry the hell up, Commander!” Joker’s voice broke through the comm channel.  “We don’t have… and I don’t want to be around when it turns back!”

Shepard was already pulling Kaidan up off the ground, levering him up onto her shoulder in a fireman’s carry and gritting her teeth against his cries of pain.  She maneuvered as carefully and as quickly as she could to the bottom of the ramp and was relieved to see Dr. Chakwas herself already waiting with a gurney.  The two of them lowered Kaidan down as gently as possible, Chakwas already performing her own omni-tool scan.

 **“** Harbinger’s beam,” was all Shepard could manage before her voice wedged in her throat.

Chakwas nodded, her face grim.  “I’ll take care of him, Commander.”

Elizabeth started to pull away, but Kaidan caught her arm in another vice-like grip.

 **“** No, damnit,” he rasped, his eyes suddenly clear.  “You are _not_ leaving me.  Not again.”

Her eyes suddenly stung and Shepard blinked rapidly.  This was not the time to lose it.  She had to keep it together.  She had to continue the mission.  She had to succeed.  She reached down and pried his fingers off her arm, then gripped his hand, leaning close.

“You know I have to do this,” she said gruffly.

“No,” he said.  “No you don’t.  There are others… just as capable.  Let them go.”

His face suddenly blurred and she pulled her fingers free of his only with great effort.  “Don’t do this to me, Kaidan,” she growled, turning before the tears could fall. 

“Shepard _, don’t.”_   The emotion in his voice tore through her like a banshee’s scream, her strides faltering just briefly.  For a split second she could see their future, if not for this damned war.  For a split second more she imagined herself staying aboard the _Normandy_ , sitting by his side to make sure he made it through.

Her hands clenched into fists as she stood at the edge of the docking bay and she turned to look over her shoulder at him, into his pale and bloodied face, his desperate dark eyes.  “No matter what happens, know that I love you.”  And then she stepped off the ramp, landing heavily in the gray dust below and activating her comms.

“You’re clear, Joker,” she shouted, her voice thick.  “Get the hell out of here!”

“With pleasure, Commander!”

The ship ascended quickly, veering starboard as Harbinger turned back in its direction.

Shepard watched it go, her heart squeezing hard in her chest as a bright red beam narrowly missed the port thrusters.  She pulled her assault rifle, setting her jaw.  She ignored the dampness on her cheeks as she took off running again, opening the way ahead with a barrage of bullets.

The Reapers had taken so much from so many.  Homeworlds, resources, people, lives, futures.  It was time to take something back.  It was going to end here, one way or another.

*

 

 

 


	3. We're All Mad Here

* * *

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: "Starvation" by Thomas Bergersen

* * *

Joker burned through Earth’s atmosphere as fast as he dared, putting as much space as possible between the ship and Harbinger.  The _Normandy_ shot out into the black of space like an arrow, only to meet the chaos of the fight in the sky.  He didn’t bother wasting power on the stealth systems; the damn Reapers were everywhere, filling the viewport like a plague of locusts descending on ancient fields.  With so many enemy ships in such close proximity, stealth was useless.  Better to use the power for engines and shields and weapons.

He tried not to remember how London had looked beneath the swirling gray clouds; the heaps of rubble, the countless bodies sprawled and blown apart, the twisted wreckage of tanks and transports, the angry heavens, rumbling and boiling, full of black smoke and lightning.

And Shepard was still down there.

And Vakarian and Vega and Tali and Liara.  And EDI’s “mobile platform”, as she still had a habit of calling it.  This wasn’t the first time he’d been thankful for the fact that EDI’s real “self” was a part of the _Normandy_ rather than contained in that fragile mechanical unit.  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t _that_ fragile… it had survived a shuttle crash and all sorts of other things a normal human body wouldn’t have, but still…

He’d seen how Alenko had come aboard through the docking bay camera feed and his heart had shoved into his throat at the sight of the melted hardsuit, the blood.

The odds were against them in this fight.  They were all destined to end up like that, or worse, unless they could get the Citadel open and activate the Crucible, and hope to whatever gods might exist that the Crucible would help them instead of make things worse.

How smart was it to activate a device that no one understood?

How smart was it to engage all resources here in one fight?

But they had to try, didn’t they?  Better to go out with a bang than slip away quietly into extinction.

At least that’s what he kept telling himself every time he saw a friendly ship get sliced apart by the concentrated red beam of a Reaper.  Geth, quarian, asari, turian, krogan… all in it together now.  All dying equally.  Shepard had united them somehow – bargained and threatened, whispered and screamed.  After all she had done for everyone, was it possible she could end up just another body on the battlefield?

He had thought once that Commander Shepard couldn’t die, but that was before he’d watched her spin away on the wave of an explosion, out into space and out of reach.

He took the _Normandy_ through a cloud of fighters buzzing around a Reaper like fleas around a bear.  He rolled starboard as another Reaper fired at him, dove, then yawed to port and came back up on the other side of the giant sentient machine.  He whipped the small frigate around and blasted the insectoid ship with his own ordnance.

No use thinking about those on the ground.  He couldn’t help them.  All he could do was keep the _Normandy_ flying and destroy as many Reapers as possible.  

_Stay alive.  Just stay alive._

The bridge comm pinged and Joker ground his teeth as he pulled the ship around for another pass, tightly enough to feel the g’s despite the inertial dampeners.  He reached out quickly to open the channel, scowling.

“Little busy here,” he called, silencing the alarm that warned he was putting too much strain on the hull before it even had a chance to sound.

“I know, I’m sorry,” came the voice from the bulkhead, and Joker’s stomach rolled as he recognized Dr. Chakwas, sounding far more concerned than he would have liked.  “Alenko wants to talk to you… I told him this wasn’t the time for it and that he’s in no condition to be having discussions, but he’s having none of it.  I’m finding it difficult to keep him restrained and if he doesn’t calm down he’s going to send himself into a coma – or worse.  So just talk to him, would you?  I’ll make sure he keeps it short.”

“Oh sure, no problem,” Joker replied with false cheeriness, rolling to avoid another Reaper beam.  Sweat beaded on his forehead and gathered beneath the brim of his hat.  “Just trying to keep all of us alive here, no big deal.  I’ve got time to chat with a delusional soldier, sure –“

“Joker.”  Kaidan’s voice came through abruptly, gruff and breathless and so wracked with pain it cut short the pilot’s complaints.  He felt his throat tighten, rendering him speechless.

“Don’t leave her down there,” Alenko rasped.  “Please.  You have to… stop her.  Don’t let her… sacrifice herself.”

Joker opened his mouth, but the sarcastic retort about how no one could stop Shepard, not even a full-grown krogan battlemaster, died on his tongue.

“Promise, Joker,” the man begged through the comm, his words fuzzy with interference.  “Promise me you won’t leave her.”

The pilot’s throat worked, the words coming unstuck only with great difficulty.  “Alenko,” he said, desperate, diving straight down to avoid an oncoming Sovereign-class Reaper, its red blast skimming his shields and making his heart leap.  “Exactly what in the hell do you expect me to do?!  She’s down there, we’re up here; we almost got blasted apart going down for you – Harbinger’s not going to give me another chance, I can guarantee you that!”

“She was going for the Conduit,” the major hissed.  “Probably on the Citadel by now.  Have to open the arms… find her transponder… give her evac!  We can’t leave her… “

“No way I could get close enough to evac her from the Citadel in this bird and you know that,” Joker snarled, zigzagging between the larger ships in the hopes of losing a trio of red-lighted Reaper drones hot on his tail.

“Use a shuttle,” Alenko shot back, then gave a cry that made the pilot wince despite himself.  “You can do it… best damn pilot in the Fleet… you can get her out…”

Joker snorted derisively.  “And leave the _Normandy_ out here in this mess alone?  That must be the morphine talking, Major.  You know better than that.”

“You _have_ to,” Alenko bit through his teeth.  “Goddamnit, why doesn’t anybody _listen_?!”  There was a commotion on the other side of the line and a sharp squeal of static that made Joker cringe.  The proximity alarms blared as he darted nimbly between two ponderous Reapers, causing one to accidentally shoot the other and the three drones to crash straight into their own masters.

His brief feeling of triumph was drowned, however, in what he heard coming from the medical bay.  Chakwas shouting, Alenko swearing, equipment crashing to the floor.

Joker let loose his own stream of expletives as one of his displays lit up red, signaling a dangerous gravitational sheer inside the ship.  It threatened to buckle the hull, or worse, cause interference with the Tantalus drive core, in which case the _Normandy_ had a very good chance of blowing apart without help from the hundreds of Reapers outside the windows.

“Alenko, _STOP_!” he roared, and the noise from the comm went deathly silent, the warning display disappearing from his screens.

Harsh breathing echoed through the cockpit, broken only by the faint bleating of some type of med-bay alarm in the background.  “You owe her, Joker,” Alenko growled into the quiet, his voice so rough the pilot would never have recognized it.  “We all do.  I saw it… saw it in her eyes… she’s not coming back.”  His voice broke.  “I’m not going to let that happen.  I’m getting… getting her out of there.  Or going down with her.  You choose.”

Joker felt the tight knot of dread in his gut.  The hopeless idiot was right.  He’d killed Shepard once, a shadow that had haunted him every night since.  Had he pulled her from the jaws of death enough times to make up for the one time he’d led her _into_ them instead?

And if she would die for him, stubborn and arrogant and brittle as he was, had he ever really expected her to come out of this fight alive?  The whole galaxy was at stake.  Every sentient organic and the synthetics that fought alongside them.  What was the life of the great Commander Shepard when compared to that? 

He swore virulently, breaking off his attack on the Reapers and swerving through the ocean of ships, dodging friendly and enemy fire alike as the black of space flashed in brilliant color all around him.  He made a beeline for the Citadel.  “I’m going after her,” he told Alenko.

A long moment of silence followed his statement.  “Thank you,” the man whispered finally.

 **“** You can thank me when we’re dead,” Joker snapped, and closed his side of the comm.

 **“** EDI,” he barked, sparing a glance in the direction of her holographic hub.  “I need you on the _Normandy_ _right now_.”

Her once-familiar blue orb appeared immediately.  “Jeff, I am perfectly capable of operating both the physical platform and –“

 **“** No, I want you on the ship, _all_ of you, right now,” Joker reiterated.  “I need you to take the helm and I’m not risking even one tiny fraction of you being preoccupied with something else.  I’m not losing this baby again, understand?”

There was a pause.  “Understood, Jeff,” her musical tones finally confirmed.  “Transfer of all processes to the _Normandy_ has been completed.  The physical platform has been abandoned.  Should it remain unscathed by the end of the battle, I can –“

“Now, now, EDI, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  It was all he could do to survive the next minute.  To imagine an end to this Reaper war, this threat that had been looming over his head for years and now bore down on his ship with hundreds of tons of genocidal menace, was beyond his comprehension.

_Just stay alive…_

The panic pushed up his throat again.  He refocused back on the controls at his fingertips.  Saw the path through the chaos, the small, narrow window of clean space.  Felt the panic ease as he pushed the throttle, rocketing with carefully calculated speed among the charred and blackened remains of starships, the zipping fighters, the slower cruisers and Reapers.

The Citadel was still closed.

It was possible Shepard would never make it up there.

It was possible Shepard was already dead.

He tried to swallow, yawing to starboard as he squeezed between an Alliance and turian cruiser.  “EDI, I need coordinates on Shepard’s suit transponder.”

“That is not a part of our mission parame –“

“Fuck the mission parameters!” he snapped.  Had she always talked so much?  “We’re going after Shepard.  I need her coordinates _now_!”

Her avatar blinked, and for an instant he felt a twinge of regret for the loss of her physical body.  He hadn’t much missed that faceless blue ball.  “Coordinates have been uploaded,” she replied a second later.

He set a course, his heart wedging into his throat as he realized she _was_ on the Citadel.  She’d made it.  Her suit was still intact, her vitals still strong.  It was almost… too good to be true.  But that was Shepard for you.  And yet, how many times could she tempt fate before the odds caught up to her?

He coaxed more speed to the engines.  “Take the helm, EDI.  I’m taking a shuttle to the Citadel.”

This pause was even longer than the first.  “Jeff… that is not… recommended.  You would not be able to reach Shepard’s coordinates unless the Citadel arms were open.  The odds of surviving the dogfight in a shuttle while the arms are still closed are less than one percent.”

“Then I’ll wait to launch until they open.”

“There is no guarantee that anyone will ever be able to open –“

“Then I’ll shoot my way in first.  But I’m going in, one way or another.  Now take the helm so I can go prep the shuttle.”

Her avatar flickered again.  “I have assumed helm controls, Jeff.  But I still do not agree with your course of action.  It is not… safe.  Or logical.”

Joker levered himself up out of the pilot’s chair, bracing himself against the bulkhead as the ship tilted beneath him.  “Come on now, EDI,” he drawled, grinning widely.  “Haven’t you figured it out yet?  We’re all mad here.”

He turned to hobble from the cockpit without waiting for a reply.  “And this ship better not have so much as a scratch by the time I get back!”  He refused to acknowledge the feeling that this would be the last time he saw her; that the next he heard of the _Normandy_ or her crew would be in a casualty report.

He keyed his personal comm to summon the small remaining security team to the shuttle bay, then switched channels to the medbay, not really caring if the man actually heard him or not, but just needing to say it.  “Alenko, if this works and we all end up living through it, you will owe me _forever_.”

*

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Dreams in Which I'm Dying

* * *

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: "Mad World" by Gary Jules

* * *

Shepard stared down at the face she had come to know so well these past few months, the face of a ghost, looking up at her with blank eyes.  Her right thigh throbbed where a Maurader’s rifle burst had hissed past her shields and lodged into armor and flesh, her ribs ached where a brute had knocked her flying across the room.  She had lost her helmet after finding Garrus’ body; human Reaper husks had found her there and in her grief and rage she had forgotten to pick it up again.  The turian’s sniper rifle was now on her back.  She tasted blood in her mouth, her face sticky with dried tears and gore.  Her fingers clenched hard around Vega’s rifle; the man had loved that gun, even named her, and Shepard couldn’t bear to leave it when she’d found his body, too.

Her insides screamed; she could almost feel herself breaking apart, piece by piece.

This… was impossible.  What the ghost had said couldn’t be true.  It didn’t make any damn sense.  This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

She tore her gaze away from its unblinking stare, looking around her for some sign that she was dreaming.  She had to be dreaming.  The ghost had been haunting her dreams for months now… that little boy’s face, the terror in his wide, innocent eyes.  His expression as he’d climbed into that shuttle.  His mouth open in a silent scream as he was engulfed in flames, and then she’d wake up in a cold sweat, trembling and gasping.

There was no waking up now.  Just a flat expanse at the top of the Citadel Tower.  Stretching space on all sides that gave her a strange sense of vertigo, that made each breath a struggle as her body instinctively told her there shouldn’t be air up here.  And the ships drifted past, slow and silent, but she knew the fight was anything but.  Everywhere the brief light of explosions flashed as more people died.

_Every second I delay, more die._

Yet still she hesitated, her heart pounding through her ears and throat.  She looked back to the ghost.  Not really a ghost.  Only the voice of something the Leviathan had admitted was essentially a rogue AI.  They had sought to control chaos, and in so doing had only exacerbated it.  But this AI could control minds, could convert organics into unquestioning and unaware thralls.  It was in her mind right now, she knew, pulling out the image of the little boy.  Using it against her.  What if all of this was just in her head?

The rifle lowered stiffly to her side.  She drew her pistol from her hip, leveling it at the wraith-like forehead.  She felt the slow trickle of warm blood down her leg.  Heard her breath hissing through her teeth.  Her fingers were ice cold, her arm trembling.

The boy looked at her impassively.  Shepard pulled the trigger, the blast a roar in the utter silence.  Afterward, her ears rang.  The top of the Citadel Tower remained, and its surrounding space and the ships that filled it… and the ghost of the little boy. 

He shook his head.  “That will accomplish nothing.  You must choose.”

Choose.

_No, there is no choice.  There is only one ending.  To win, to live, to survive._

The ghost had told her she could control the Reapers, but she trusted it less than she had ever trusted the Illusive Man, and even he had given in to the whispers eventually.  She knew she should destroy them.  That had always been the goal.  But if the Crucible truly did not discriminate when it destroyed… could she destroy the Reapers knowing that it would also end the geth… and EDI?  The geth fought side by side with their creators now… the creators that had turned against them in the first place and given them no chance for reconciliation in three hundred years.  If anything, the geth had shown far more compassion than their organic counterparts. 

And Joker.  He’d lost Ashley already.  The relationship between the pilot and EDI may have been unconventional, but that didn’t make it any less real.  Who was she to take away any chance of a future they might have?

Shepard swallowed hard.  And yet, who was she to make a choice for everyone?  All organics and synthetics alike, galaxy-wide… did she really have the right to speak for _all_ of them?  To decide what they would become?

There was no win in this.

Exhaustion finally took her and the pistol slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground.  She sank down onto her knees, feeling the sobs surge again.

_Kaidan._

She had not realized how desperately she had hoped they would both come out of this.  When she had seen him lying at the edge of that blast crater, burned and bloodied, the terror had almost paralyzed her.  And suddenly all the memories of Mindoir had come pouring back, threatening to shatter her.  Now she remembered why she had spent so many years without real friends, without real lovers.

Kaidan had been the only one since Mindoir to slip in so completely.  Others had come close… a few of her _Normandy_ crew.  Garrus, Tali, Joker, Liara, Adams, Chakwas, Wrex.  Thane and Grunt and Jack in her own unique way.  Kasumi.  Daniels and Donnelly.  And Vega too, eventually.  Maybe, if she thought hard enough, even Miranda.

But Kaidan…

He made this choice even harder than it should have been.  He gave her a reason to live.  A reason to be selfish.  She _wanted_ to live, goddamnit.  For the first time in a very, very long time, she wanted to be fully invested in her present.  She wanted to see him again, to have a chance to spend time with him outside of a battlefield or the cramped confines of a frigate.

And this ghost was telling her she might be able to have that.  At the expense of all synthetics.

There was no choice in this.  She didn’t even know if there was a right.  It all felt wrong.

A hot tear slipped down her cheek, making a path through the dried blood and bits of viscera that marred her features to splatter on the cowling of Vega’s beloved rifle.  She stroked the scarred and blackened weapon.  Vera, he’d called it.  And now he was gone.

So many gone.  So many dead through violence and war.

Could the ghost of the child truly be right?  Would a synthesis end the chaos?  Could a universe even exist without chaos?  She glanced up at the battle raging on the strange horizon.  Would it be worth it to end all of this, once and for all?  End the cycle.  Forever.

And the ghost had a point.  She was mostly cybernetics already.  Half-synthetic herself.  It wasn’t so bad.  Most of the time she didn’t even notice.  Would synthesis be like that, perhaps?  Maybe no one would even notice the change, and the cycle would be ended. 

_Or maybe we will lose everything that makes us human.  And turian and krogan and asari and all the rest._

She remembered her many discussions with EDI on the subject: the difficulty of trying to explain emotional reactions, of trying to justify the benefits of emotion when in truth, so many problems could be eliminated if all sentient creatures just had – and used - the logic of synthetics.  Maybe that was the only way to end the suffering and fighting… maybe that had always been the only solution.  But then, was emotion itself what made life living?  EDI and the geth still wished to live, still seemed happy with their function and purpose in life… was that simply a byproduct of their programming, of the self-preservation logic?  EDI seemed to have affection for Joker… affection was an emotion.  An emotion written in zeroes and ones, yes.  But was that really so different than the electro-chemical reaction of an organic brain?

Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, pain stabbing through her skull.  She lifted a hand to her forehead, trying to ignore how badly it shook.  Her whole body shook.  She felt cold.  So very cold.

It was really a choice between organics and synthetics, she realized dazedly.  Destroy all artificial life and give her and Kaidan the chance for the future she so desperately wanted.  Or be willing to compromise, to give up some organic traits for synthetic ones and synthetic traits for organic ones.  Merge the two.  Take the best of both.  End the cycle.  Forever.

And die in the process.  And never see Kaidan again.

She drew in a deep, careful breath, feeling the violent protests of her ribs.  She very slowly and gently placed Vera in its place on her back.  Laboriously rose to her feet.  She felt as if she weighed a thousand pounds, her heart a heavy stone in her chest.  It was all she could do to stand, every cell of her body suddenly drained.

She made herself step forward, moving toward the light.

The ghost child disappeared abruptly, leaving her alone.  Utterly alone. 

She had been alone for so much of her life.

Another sob hitched in her throat, but she choked it down, wrapping her arms around herself, limping forward.  Always forward.  After Mindoir, after Akuze, after Eden Prime, after Alchera, after Horizon, after Bahak.  After facing the barrel of Kaidan’s pistol during Udina’s attempted coup.  After Kaidan had requested to rejoin the _Normandy_.  She had always pushed through.  Never backed down from a challenge.  Never given up a fight.  She had always gotten the job done.

That’s why they always called her.  That’s why she had led this fight against the Reapers.  That’s why Harbinger had personally hunted her.  Why she had buckets of blood on her hands and hundreds of ghosts walking her nightmares.  Why there were whispers in her head, always.

Why she was going to do this.

Kaidan had been able to make them stop.  When he held her, she didn’t have nightmares.

She closed her eyes.  Kept limping forward.  One foot in front of the other.  One step at a time.  The light grew brighter and brighter against her eyelids.  The tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

She stopped when she felt the edge beneath the toe of her boot.  Her breath came fast and ragged now.  She hugged herself even tighter, kept her eyes closed.  She tried to remember how many lives she would be saving.  Her future was worth that, wasn’t it?

She refused to answer herself.  Refused to think of Kaidan.  She couldn’t.  The mere memory of his touch made her want to turn and run the other way, and the rest of the galaxy be damned.

But she couldn’t be selfish. 

She was Commander fucking Shepard.  Survivor of Akuze.  Savior of the Citadel.  Savior of the _Galaxy_.  The one who ended the Reapers and the cycle once and for all. 

She drew one last deep breath.  “See you at the bar, Vakarian,” she whispered gruffly, and then she stepped off into nothingness.

*


	5. Blinding Burning Light

* * *

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: "Louder Than Words" by Les Friction  


* * *

Joker swore as he clambered up the stairs of the Citadel Tower, sweating and gasping, thinking this was quite literally the very last place he had ever expected to be.  Ever.  He had gone to great lengths to ensure his boney ass never left that shuttle’s pilot seat, and yet here he was.  Not in the pilot’s seat.  Not even anywhere near the shuttle.  Wearing armor.  Holding a gun.  Climbing an absolutely ridiculous number of stairs.

The hastily planned evac mission had gone straight to hell almost from the beginning.  Someone had managed to open the Citadel arms, at least, and he’d gotten the shuttle fairly close to the Tower – which was the nearest landmark to Shepard’s coordinates - before a Reaper-operated anti-air gun had taken out the port thruster, sending them down much faster than he would have liked.  He had seen a few scarce shuttles since then attempt to flee the giant station, likely groups of survivors trying to make a lucky break, but the AA guns took them all down, and the knot in his stomach only twisted tighter with each fireball that plummeted back toward the stretching arms.

Traynor and the security team had disembarked, heading for Shepard’s location at the top of the Tower, while he had stayed behind to attempt repairs.  The hit hadn’t been fatal, and he’d made relatively good progress by the time Traynor’s garbled voice had come over his comms, frantic and nearly drowned by the sound of gunfire.

They’d lost Higgs and Marshall, and she and Murtz and Ferguson had been cornered.  She told him the Tower’s base was crawling with Reaper forces.  Told him to abort the mission.  Told him to get back to the _Normandy_ …

Joker clenched his jaw as he scrambled over bodies and debris, trying not to look at faces.  There were soldiers… Alliance and C-Sec and Cerberus.  And the dark smears and piles of ash that had used to be Reaper husks.  Chunks of concrete where the barriers and walls had been blown apart.  Twisted metal railings.  A klaxon still blared shrilly, but there was no one left alive here to heed it.  The trees burned, filling the air with acrid smoke that collected in the alcoves of the high, arched ceiling.

He had tried to save them.  Told them to hold on as long as they could.  Fixed the shuttle well enough to get it airborne again, came in as close as he could, used its small yet effective cannons on the Reaper horde… but there were too many.  Traynor and the others had been cut off from any escape, they couldn’t get clear.

He couldn’t get to them.

The helplessness choked him, the fury roiling in his chest like a living thing.  They had died, all of them, and he had been _right there_.  He’d barely gotten the shuttle out of there in one piece; the Reaper thralls being quick to break out their bizarre form of living rocket launchers, and then he’d blasted a hole in the Tower’s elevator shaft and landed on top of the frozen lift car.  He hoped it would hold.  If not…

He didn’t want to think about that. 

_My fault._

_Alenko’s fault._

None of them should have been there.  They should have stayed aboard the _Normandy_.  Was dying at the hands of a Reaper horde any worse than dying in the red blast of a Reaper itself?  He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter now.  What mattered was that they were dead, and he wasn’t going to let them die for nothing.  He wasn’t going back to the _Normandy_ empty-handed. 

And so here he was, climbing the Tower steps agonizingly slowly, ever thankful that the enemy seemed to be concentrated in the levels below where he had landed, but also knowing they had watched his trajectory.  They’d be coming for him soon enough.  He could see them in his mind’s eye, shuffling up the stairs or crawling through the maintenance shafts, mouths lolling open hungrily, all too ready to make him one of their own.

Joker swallowed hard, glancing back down to his omni-tool and the steady blinking light that denoted Commander Shepard’s location.  She appeared to be at the very, very top of the Tower - although her precise coordinates did not align with the current Citadel map.

He wasn’t even sure what he’d do once he found her.  Her vitals had become elevated and erratic, but still within acceptable range.  He had to hope that wherever she was and whatever she was doing, she would remain conscious and able until they got back to the shuttle.  No way he could move her if she wasn’t able to walk, and he had the chances of a soup cracker in a sandstorm if he had to fight.

 _Cripes, Jeff, what in the hell are you doing?  Why did you even come here?  You really think you’re going to be able to help Shepard?  She can take care of herself!  You see all these bodies you keep stepping over?  Those are trained_ soldiers _!  Who still_ died _.  And here you are waltzing along like you have a chance in hell when a brute’s_ sneeze _could break you!_

A distant banshee scream made him duck against the stairwell, his heart suddenly racing.  He clutched the assault rifle to his chest, but he’d never been the best shot.  And he was completely worthless against anything with biotics.

He’d attempted to locate some of the others who had been with Shepard during the rush to the Conduit, hoping they could help, hoping maybe they were even _with_ Shepard, but he hadn’t been able to raise a single one.  They couldn’t all be dead, could they?  Surely not.  He hadn’t been able to reach Shepard, either, but his uplink to her armor said she was still alive.

Regardless, he was all alone in this.  It was all up to him.

_Alenko, I’m going to kill you…_

Did he really owe Shepard this much?  To lead five people to their deaths?  To climb hundreds of stairs over so many bodies in the smoke and ash, to risk being shattered by a banshee while his ship was left to the skills of another?

The banshee screamed again, closer.

_Oh shit.  Shit shit shit._

This was it.  This was how it ended.  Not how he’d planned it, really.  He’d wanted to be at the _Normandy_ ’s helm, flying down some cursed Reaper’s maw.  That would have been a death worth dying.  Not this.  Not alone in this tower.

He looked back to his omni-tool.  Still several flights to go before he got anywhere near Shepard.  The banshee was too close.  He didn’t think he could make it in time.  Not wearing this cursed hardsuit.  Not with his damned brittle bones.

The flashing light on his omni-tool vanished abruptly.

Joker blinked, his heart stumbling.  The vitals readouts on the edge of the locator display flat-lined.

He stopped breathing.

The floor beneath him shuddered, a heavy whine sounding from everywhere and nowhere all at once, reverberating in his chest.  Something in his gut told him to get out of there, to run back to the shuttle, but he couldn’t move.  His limbs were locked in place, his eyes still riveted to his omni-tool, waiting for Shepard’s transponder signal to come back.

The emergency lighting along the stairway and walls flickered and then went dark, plunging Joker into blackness. Except for the fires, which lit everything in a hellish glow, making shadows dance and leap along the walls.  The warning klaxon fell silent abruptly and the banshee filled the space with another scream, so loud now that Joker’s audio receptors screeched with interference.  He tried to shrink smaller against the railing as a bluish glow approached at the far top of the stairs. 

Through the Tower’s windows a blinding light flashed, making Joker’s visor automatically dim.  For an instant he saw the terrifying shadow of the banshee against the far wall, looming impossibly large, all long and thin fringe and arms and claw-like fingers.  Time stood still as he squinted against the light, knowing he was about to die, knowing he had come too late to save Shepard, and then…

He was weightless, flailing through the air, shouting in surprise.  He lost hold of his rifle.  Couldn’t find it… the light was too damn bright, so bright, making his eyes water.  He heard a shriek from the banshee, but he could do nothing against it in this lack of gravity.  There was a strange sensation then, almost as if he’d stuck a finger in a light socket.  A tingling, prickling wave coursed through his body and he was vaguely aware of his omni-tool going dark, the HUD in his visor shutting down.  The hardsuit became a stiff, hard case around him as the power-assist system also went down.

_Oh.  Shit._

There was a blast, the sound of glass shattering, a rush of pressure that sent him flying through empty air, and then blackness.

*

Kaidan fought unconsciousness with all the strength he had left, struggling against the warm fog of the sedatives and pain meds Chakwas had given him, still feeling the underlying agony that tore at his nerves.  His skin was on fire, despite the fact the doctor had managed to remove most of his armor and undersuit and applied medi-gel and bandages to the raw, exposed skin beneath.  She wouldn’t tell him how bad it was, but the set of her jaw, the hard line of her lips, the careful distance in her eyes, told him all he needed to know.  He watched through the holes in his vision as she slowly and gently cut away the melted plating.  It had burned onto his skin, he knew.  His right leg, too.  He shouldn’t be watching her.  It only made it hurt worse.

He closed his eyes, but the stars were still there, seemingly growing larger and brighter.  The migraine was in full bloom; had been ever since his outburst at Joker’s original refusal to evac Shepard.  But the stars… they’d been there ever since Harbinger’s beam.  Burned onto his retinas, marring his view of Shepard’s face, and that’s all he’d wanted to see.

Shepard.  Safe.

He wanted to get off this damn table, but the drugs weighed him down and Chakwas had strapped him to it.  And taken his amp, too.  Not that he could have managed another biotic surge anyway.  His head felt like it would split at any second, the base of his skull throbbing with a pain so intense he was sure something was drastically wrong with his jack – it had never been the same after Mars, but this… this was something new.  The nosebleed, too, had been especially bad this time.

His hands and mouth were numb, an aftereffect of the migraine most likely, but there was also a chill that went bone deep, making him shiver uncontrollably though his hair was damp with sweat.

His body begged for him to give in to the darkness, to sleep, to forget the pain.  But he clung to the sharp edges of all the hurt the drugs had failed to dull, part of him afraid he wouldn’t open his eyes again if he let himself go.  Chakwas would do her best, of course, he had no doubt about that.  There was no one he trusted more to bring him through, in fact.  But the _Normandy_ medbay was limited in its resources, and this would be the last battle in the war against the Reapers.  Win or lose, the top-of-the-line hospitals would be destroyed or completely overwhelmed, and the chances of him getting to one in a timely fashion were extremely low.

_This can’t be the end… not like this.  Not without her._

He tried to think of Shepard.  Remembered every little detail of her face.  The freckles across her nose.  The toothy grin he hadn’t seen for so long.  The hangnails on almost every finger.  He tried to remember the times they had been happy, those few stolen moments between the stress and intense concentration of battles, politics, and diplomatic negotiations.  He tried to remember before the Reapers, at the very beginning, when he’d stumble over himself every time she stopped by his station for a status report.

His heart ached at the memories.

They’d been through so much.  Come so far.  They’d brought so many together.  And the Crucible was here.  It had to work… it _had_ to.  It had to end this once and for all.

So he could finally have Shepard all to himself.

_Selfish, Alenko._

He didn’t care.  He’d spent his whole life not being selfish, always putting duty first, almost to the extent of even losing Shepard.  Now he just wanted her alive.  Safe.  _Here_.

He wondered about Joker’s progress.  The anxiety writhed in his gut, completely immune to the effects of the sedatives.  The Reapers were causing too much interference in communications for the pilot to send back mission updates, and the uncertainty tortured him worse than even his myriad wounds.

They wouldn’t know if Joker was successful or not until he was nearly at the _Normandy_ ’s door.  EDI had been instructed to stay as close to the Citadel and Crucible as was safe, helping to guard it from the oncoming Reaper forces and making sure she was within range as soon as Joker took the shuttle away from the ancient space station.  But the wait for news had been nearly unbearable.

He had to stay awake until he knew something.

 _Had_ to…

“Attention all _Normandy_ crew,” EDI’s clear voice suddenly rang out through the PA system, and Kaidan’s heart crammed into his throat.  “The Citadel and Crucible appear to have successfully linked, and power build-up suggests the Crucible will fire in fifteen point four three seconds.  Admiral Hackett has ordered all ships to FTL-jump a short distance away as a safety measure.  We are currently dropping back to the suggested safe distance.”

“No!” Kaidan blurted, making Chakwas startle as his eyes flew open.  He wanted to say more, wanted to jump to his feet and run to the cockpit to fly the damn ship himself, but a slight twitching of his fingers was all he could manage.  “Can’t,” he managed finally.  “Can’t go.  Joker… Shepard!”

He recognized the flash of blue in his peripheral vision; EDI had graced him with the presence of her avatar.  “We have already initiated the FTL jump, Major Alenko,” she stated calmly.  “I am certain both Jeff and Commander Shepard would have preferred we keep the ship intact, rather than risk destroying it and all those on board.  If they are still on the Citadel, it is likely they are safe enough there until we can determine what the Crucible’s risk is to our ships.  Which we should know shortly, as by my calculations, the Crucible has just fired.”

 **“** No,” he said again, voice thick and heavy.  His head was swimming.  He tried so hard to move, to get up, but it was no use.  His body wouldn’t obey.  He hurt too much.  Couldn’t hardly think straight anymore…

A time like eternity stretched out, and then the ship bumped ever so slightly, causing Chakwas to look up from her focused attempt at separating armor from skin.  The lights flickered and went out, replaced almost immediately by emergency lighting as a warning klaxon began to sound.  And then, worst of all, the subtle vibration of the engines against his back, the background hum he’d gotten so used to he couldn’t even sleep without it these days, fell silent.

 **“** We have lost power,” EDI stated flatly. “My back-up generator has been engaged.”

 **“** A result of the Crucible?” Chakwas asked, raising Kaidan’s own question.  He could no longer get his voice to work.

 **“** That is probable,” EDI replied.  “Although our communications have been disrupted as well, so there is no way to be certain at the moment.  I have already began diagnostics and repairs where I am able and notified Engineers Adams, Donnelly and Daniels to begin repair work on the other, external systems.  I will keep all crew appraised of the situation.”

The klaxon mercifully shut off.

Chakwas spared the briefest glance in Kaidan’s direction.  “How long, do you think?”

His heart roared in his ears, making it difficult to hear.  His vision had nearly gone all white; no matter where he looked or how he squinted, it was just all white.  Too bright. 

 **“** We have experienced a strong electrical surge,” EDI admitted, sounding muffled somehow.  “Much of the ship’s circuitry has been damaged.  It will take quite some time to replace or bypass it with the limited resources we have on board.”

 **“** I thought we were shielded against that?” Chakwas said, and Kaidan had to listen very hard now.  He felt as if he were floating, his head underwater.

 _Shepard_ , he thought, putting all his will into it.  _We have to get to Shepard…_

“That is correct.  However, this pulse was extremely powerful, and extremely concentrated.  No known technology has ever generated a surge of this kind.  Our shielding was insufficient.”

 **“** It must have come from the Crucible, then.”

_The Crucible… the Citadel… Shepard is on the Citadel… too close… not safe…_

The voices of EDI and the doctor faded away, black spots marring the white in front of his eyes.  He watched them in detached fascination as they slowly crept inwards, slowly swallowing him up, and despite his best efforts the last vestiges of consciousness finally slipped away.

*

 

 

 


	6. Falling

 

* * *

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: "Who Will Save You Now" by Les Friction

* * *

Joker pried his eyes open, groaning, his body a wash of throbbing aches.  Even his head hurt, his sinuses strangely stuffy despite the fact he certainly had not had a cold.  The HUD in his visor blinked a diagnostic read-out, informing him that a reboot of the power systems had been required, but that everything seemed to now be functioning as normal.  It took him a moment to realize he was staring at the ground.  From very high up.  A shout escaped him, his arms and legs automatically flailing, but he had no traction.

He was… _floating_.

The vertigo rocked him hard, the fear of suddenly falling choking the breath from his lungs.  He scrabbled for something – _anything_ – to grab on to, but the nearest chunk of concrete just moved away from him as his fingers brushed it.  The blackened and smoking skeletons of the trees were far below, and everything not attached to the floor had come to rest somewhere in the cavernous middle.  Joker hung suspended between debris and bodies, weightless and still, eerily silent.  A faint blue, shimmering field rippled across the openings where the windows had once been; a forcefield activated at the change in pressure he was sure, meant to protect the Tower’s occupants.  But now he was the only one left to appreciate it.  For all the good it did.

At least he hadn’t been sucked out into space.

Like Shepard had been.

He winced, pushing the memory away, and tried to force himself to calm down.  _Breathe.  Think._

He brought up his omni-tool, running an environmental scan.  Atmosphere and gravity minimal.  His hardsuit would keep him alive for awhile, but it wasn’t a full environmental unit… his time was limited.

_Shit.  Shit shit shit._

He rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers, making sure both his body and suit were actually still functional.  Nothing felt broken – a small miracle in and of itself.  He saw no sign of the banshee or any other Reaper troops, to his great relief, especially since he also saw no sign of his rifle.  At least the lack of gravity would slow them down, too.  He rolled onto his back and pulled the pistol off his hip.  He took a deep breath, braced himself, and fired once toward the ceiling.

The force of the round exiting the pistol’s barrel pushed him downward much faster than he would have liked; he threw out his left arm just in time to catch himself on part of the stair’s railing and prevent a jarring slam into the ground.  Instead he managed to land feet-first, taking the brunt of the force through his boots.  He growled very unhappily as he realized he’d been tossed down several flights of stairs.  His left knee really hurt; he might have damaged it worse than he’d thought.  He holstered the pistol and wrapped one arm around the bent railing, using the other to bring up his omni-tool again.  He tried to ping the shuttle’s comms, but got nothing.

Apparently it was gone.  Likely dislodged from his impromptu landing pad during the violent pressure and gravity change.

A strange feeling wrapped around his insides.  He’d felt it once before, that day he’d faced down the Collector ship and had the _Normandy_ cut out from underneath him.

_No escape._

He swallowed hard.  _No.  There has to be a way…_

He looked around again, straining to see in the near darkness.  The only light now was the glow of sunlight reflected off the Earth’s atmosphere, shining faintly through the forcefield.

Joker stopped cold.  _Earth?_   He looked up through the forcefield again, his stomach dropping.  The planet loomed far too large.  It hadn’t been that close when he’d landed the shuttle in the elevator shaft.  And if he watched very closely, it drew nearer still.

The Citadel was _falling_.

Joker slumped.  “This is just not my day.”

A dampened, barely audible _grunt_ from somewhere behind him made the pilot yelp and spin around, pistol raised.  A great dark mound emerged from the gloom of the stairs below, anchoring itself down with a hand on the rail and any other hold it could find, the other pointing a large bore shotgun right at Joker’s face.  But beyond the weapon’s muzzle, the pilot suddenly recognized the shape.  A _krogan_.

He immediately lowered his pistol, switching his comms to the frequency Operation Hammer had been assigned and hoping it was the correct one.  “Hey, hey, whoa now!  Not a Reaper, here!  We’re on the same side!”

The krogan cocked its head, then lowered its shotgun and took a large step forward, coming nose to nose with Joker, its bizarre looking helmet covering its entire face, the eye-holes large and tinted.  It was all the pilot could do to keep himself from leaning backward, but he forced himself to hold his ground.

“ _You!”_ the krogan blurted, his voice sounding slightly mechanized through his helmet, but still unmistakable.

Joker blinked.  “Wrex?!”

The krogan rumbled a chuckle, thumping the pilot on the back hard enough to make him nearly lose his hold on the railing.  If not for his armor, his scapula, clavicle and probably a few ribs would have been shattered.  “Well look at you!” Wrex exclaimed, stepping back to look Joker over head to toe again.  “You _do_ have a quad after all!  Never would have thought you’d step foot outside your precious spaceship!”

Joker scowled.  “I came after Shepard.”  He glanced over his shoulder, up toward where his omni-tool had last marked her location, before…. 

“Shepard!” Wrex boomed, his voice impossibly loud in the confines of Joker’s helmet.  “You?!  _You_ went after Shepard?  _Alone_?”

The pilot opened his mouth to growl out that he hadn’t been that stupid, that there had been others but they’d been cornered and outnumbered and slaughtered right in front of him, that he’d tried to save them but just couldn’t get to them, that they had all died in vain because Shepard was already gone, but the krogan didn’t give him time to speak.  Instead, Wrex let loose another guffaw and slapped Joker’s shoulder again.

“Perhaps you are worthy of following in a warlord’s shadow, after all,” the krogan said.

Joker straightened, grimacing at the ache that now permeated his shoulder, and fixed the much larger alien with a glare.  “Yeah, and what the hell are _you_ doing up here?  I don’t recall that getting aboard the Citadel was a part of your mission objectives.”

Wrex grunted, shoving past him to start moving up the stairs again.  Joker lost his hold on the rail at the krogan’s push and would have floated away again if his reaching fingers hadn’t of hooked the top of Wrex’s armor where it jutted up over his hump.  The pilot used the krogan’s bulk to leverage himself downward again, regaining his grip on his precious metal handle.

Joker followed Wrex reluctantly at a distance.  He was glad to see a – relatively – friendly face, but the alien was going in the wrong direction.  They had to get off the Citadel before it hit Earth’s atmosphere…

“The krogan have a future now,” Wrex said over his shoulder.  “I wasn’t about to leave that in the hands of anyone else, not even Shepard.  I went to the Conduit to make sure someone would get up here.  To make sure someone opened the Citadel arms so the Crucible could blast the Reapers into the Void.”

“Were you the one who opened it?”

“No.  Must’ve been Shepard.  Comm chatter said she and some others made it to the beam and were assumed to have reached the Citadel.”  Wrex’s head dropped a little.  “I found the bodies of Vakarian and the other human, the big one with clan markings, on my way here.”

Joker stumbled.  _Garrus.  Vega._   “Damn.”  The word came out a whisper, the news like a blow to his stomach.  It was suddenly difficult to breathe.  He fought the instinctive urge to take off his helmet.

“But I didn’t find Shepard,” Wrex continued, louder.  “She helped give the krogan their future.  I won’t leave till I find her.”

Joker cleared his throat, feeling sick as reality settled in around him.  “Shepard’s gone,” he croaked.  “I… I was tracking her… saw her…”  He shook his head.  “Look, we need to get the hell out of here.”  He pointed to Earth, huge and gray and still afire on the horizon.  “The Citadel is going to burn up and I’d rather not be here when it does.”

Wrex stopped his forward progress, his bulky frame twisting to leer down at the pilot.  “Shepard is a battlemaster.  My sister.  A hero to the krogan.  If you want to scurry back to your ship like a frightened little pyjack to the nest, be my guest.  But I won’t abandon her.”

“I’m not abandoning anyone,” Joker snapped, heat flaring under his collar as he remembered Shepard falling away from the escape pod all those years ago; his security team’s last shouts of bravery and defiance in the face of overwhelming enemy forces so shortly ago….

“Good.”  Wrex’s omni-tool flared to life, bright in the darkness, and a faint signal flashed.  “Because Shepard isn’t dead.”

Joker’s mouth dropped open.

“It will go faster if we use the zero g to our favor,” the krogan stated, and without another word he released the railing and pushed off the stairs, launching into the air.  He brought his shotgun to bear and fired once, and his massive frame rocketed across the open expanse of the Tower with frightening speed.

Joker swore, much preferring to stay with his feet on the ground, even if he had to make a concentrated effort to keep them there.  But Wrex was right.  They could reach her faster by… flying.  And his suit’s life support had a deadline.  The faster they found her and got out of there, the better.

_Well, I always did say I preferred flying over walking…_

He pushed off before he could have second thoughts, trying to think of his body like a ship and his pistol as a thruster.  Crude, to be sure, nothing like his sleek and beautiful _Normandy_ , and far more fragile.  But a start.

_Beggars can’t be choosers, Jeff._

He fired a round toward the wall and coasted after Wrex.

*

Shepard jerked awake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright and blinking.  A large expanse of nothingness greeted her, completely devoid of object or light, although she somehow registered the lines of a floor and walls.  A black room.  Completely empty.  She noticed abruptly that she was naked.  And she didn’t hurt.

She frowned, holding her hands in front of her face to study them.  There was no visible source of light, yet she could see them.  And they were steady again.  She remembered that they had once trembled… been trembling for months.  She remembered she had been so tired.  And cold.  And in pain… great pain.  She had been injured.  Fighting a battle.

The air in front of her shimmered and a child appeared before her, wreathed in smoke.  She could see through him.  She knew him… knew him….

“Elizabeth Shepard,” the child spoke, but not with a child’s voice.  It was the deep, rumbling voice of the Leviathans she heard now, and the memories slammed back into place so suddenly she grimaced.  “You have ended the cycle.”

Ended the cycle.  Yes.  She looked down at her naked skin, saw the faint scars still left by the Lazarus Project, and frowned up at the child, who she remembered was just a projection.  Not really a ghost.  “Am I… dead?”  Her voice was rough, groggy.

The projection shook its head.  “No.”

She looked around again, not recognizing the surroundings.  And her armor.  Her weapons… a pang of grief lanced through her heart at the memory of Garrus and James, left lifeless on the Citadel.  “But… the synthesis… you said…”

“I said your essence would be absorbed.  And so it has been.  Your willingness to sacrifice yourself in order to preserve the synthetics that fought alongside you has fulfilled our purpose and ended the cycle.”

Elizabeth’s mouth worked for a moment.  “But… I… I don’t understand…”

The child’s image wavered.  “You witnessed firsthand the tragic outcome of the war between the geth and their creators, you fought against them in countless battles, yet you were willing to listen to them when the chance presented itself.  And ultimately, you chose to preserve them at the expense of your own life.”

Shepard found herself frowning again.  It had not been an easy choice, for certain.  She still wasn’t convinced it had been the right one. 

“You have demonstrated that organics and synthetics can work together,” the child continued.  “That the organics of your cycle will not always choose to annihilate the synthetics they create.  You have shown us the beginning of the end of the conflict between organics and their synthetic creations, and thus, our purpose has been fulfilled.  The chaos we were created to control is at an end.  The Reapers have ceased their harvest and fallen dormant.  The cycle has been broken.”

Shepard blinked, vestiges of a headache beginning to poke at her temples.  Was that all it had really taken?  Over so many millennia, so many dead, so many harvested… just one person was needed to show empathy toward the AIs?  “But… you said the blending was the final evolution…”

“True synthesis is not possible,” the child said, still in its deep, rumbling voice.  “Synthetics do not have DNA, and organics cannot retain their original function if the brain is altered.  The closest the two can ever come to being one is already represented in you, Commander Shepard.  An individual with many cybernetic implants, who still retains their organic thought processes.  But even this simple synthesis is not necessary for the fulfillment of our purpose.  The final evolution is peaceful coexistence of organic and synthetic, the willingness of organics to see synthetics as truly alive - and treat them as more than simple machines which can be shut down or destroyed at will.”

A thought sprang into Shepard’s mind, a thought she wasn’t sure she should voice, being that the child claimed the cycle had ended, but she couldn’t help herself.  “But… I’m just one person… I can’t speak for all organics!”

The child shook its head.  “You are the first to demonstrate such a willingness.  All it takes is one person.  As you well know… otherwise Harbinger would have never perceived you as such a threat to its operations.”

Elizabeth sat in stunned silence, her thoughts spinning.

“This is our final message, Commander Shepard.  Spread your compassion.  It will save you all.”

She opened her mouth to ask more questions, to ask how that could make such a difference, but the image of the child vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, and she was alone in nothingness once more.  “Hey, wait!” she called, pushing herself to her feet, but it was no use, the projection was gone.

She stood in the middle of nowhere, acutely conscious of her nakedness, feeling cold again.  A wave of warmth spread across her right thigh and she looked down to see blood making slick, dark paths down pale skin.  She opened her mouth to scream, but a darkness blacker than the blackest night rushed in upon her with a noise like a tornado, carrying her back down into oblivion.

*

 

 


	7. World on Fire

* * *

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: "World on Fire" by Les Friction

* * *

Gravcars were not made for space flight, nor for re-entry.  But it was the first vehicle Wrex and Joker had been able to find, and by then the Citadel had already plunged into Earth’s upper atmosphere, the fire wrapping around the edges of the massive station, obscuring the view of anything else.  The cool stretch of space above and the ground far, far below had both been lost behind the wall of flame swiftly retreating in the gravcar’s rearview as Joker flew it as far as he could into the station’s interior. 

This plan wasn’t necessarily any less insane than the original evac mission, he kept telling himself, squeezing the car between towering apartment buildings, racing deeper and deeper into the Wards.  Just get to the inside as far as they could manage and ride the Citadel through the worst of the atmosphere.  It would break apart of course, but if they could reach the thickest area of one of the arms, they might have a chance of not being flung off on some smaller piece that would completely disintegrate around them. 

Then, when they were nearer to the ground, they could launch the gravcar and hope it would take them the rest of the way down in some sort of orderly fashion – or at least more gracefully than still being aboard whatever remained of the Citadel as it slammed into the world below.

_Stay in the center.  Ride it down.  No sweat.  You can do this…_

Behind him, Wrex uttered a string of words Joker could only guess were highly poignant curses, as his translator missed them all.  The krogan barely fit in the car all by himself, and he had Shepard back there too, trying to keep her as steady as possible despite Joker’s wild maneuvering.

They had found her lying unconscious on the very top of the Citadel Tower, a place he hadn’t even known a person could get to and which had required him to shimmy a very long distance up a narrow maintenance shaft to reach.  When he’d finally gotten there, he’d been horrified to see her helmetless, but just a second later he’d realized that the area at the tower’s top still had both gravity and pressure.  Even so, he’d had to go all the way back down again to scavenge a suitable helmet from a corpse – an extremely unpleasant experience – and then fit it to her armor as best he could.

By the time he’d finished, Wrex had been fuming with impatience.  But the maintenance shafts weren’t built for krogan.  Or even two human beings, really.  Getting Shepard down that tunnel even in zero-G had been harder than any course he’d ever flown, by far.  Taking the SR-2 through the debris field on the other side of the Omega 4 relay was cake next to pushing a cataleptic mass of drifting limbs through a tube scarcely wider than his shoulders.  He supposed he should be thankful for the zero-G, though, as attempting such a feat in normal G would have been utterly impossible.

The pilot shook his head.  The universe had a twisted sort of irony to it, that was certain.  Shepard had been made a Spectre in that tower.  Delivered multiple warnings about the Reapers in that very space.  Almost died there, too… twice.  Once almost buried by a Reaper, and now this.  He hardly remembered what she’d looked like back then… strong and tall, with fire in her eyes and determination leaking out of every pore.

The woman muttering incoherently in his back seat seemed a shell of her former self.  Smaller, more fragile, paler.  Her armor scuffed and scratched and spattered with gore, her body battered and bloody.  Her skin had been ice cold when he’d checked for a pulse, the blood from the holes in her thigh pooling thick and dark.  He’d applied medi-gel to all the wounds he could see, but he wasn’t sure it’d be enough.

_Just ride it down.  You can do it.  We can make it._

On the horizon he saw the edges of the Citadel’s arms beginning to crumble and break, dark pieces flying away to vanish in the hungry flames.  The destruction moved slowly inwards, the great and ancient space station still as susceptible as anything else to the powers of friction and gravity.

He tried not to think of what might come next.  Even if by some crazy miracle they reached the ground alive, what then?  He could only assume the blinding light and sudden loss of power were a result of the Crucible doing its job, but had it done what they’d hoped it would do?  From the top of the Citadel Tower he could see the space battle beyond, and it had seemed like it had worked.  In the precious few seconds he had dared take his eyes from Shepard to stare, the Reapers appeared to be dead in the water.  And the horde of Reaper troops that had overwhelmed the security team was nowhere to be found when they had reached the tower bottom.

Just ash.  Everywhere.  And silence.

And then they’d found the gravcar.  And hatched this absurd plan.

But even if they made it, Shepard needed a hospital.  It was probably too much to ask that they might touch down in one piece _and_ land close to one that was still intact.

Joker found a nice, open courtyard at one of the more upscale apartment buildings and eased the car down onto the pavement, keeping the engines running.  He glanced up through the windshield at the towering buildings that lined the long, rectangle plaza.  He had parked in the very middle, hoping that if any of those buildings should fall, the car would be far enough away to be safe.

“Why are you stopping!?” Wrex demanded from the back seat.  “Aren’t we supposed to be getting out of here?”

Joker restrained his urge to call the krogan all sorts of foul names.  The alien was much too big and far too temperamental for that.  He forced his voice to stay calm and even.  “If we leave the Citadel now we’d be vaporized.  Still too high in the atmosphere – the speed and friction would fry us up in a nanosecond.  The station is acting like our blast shield right now… we’ll wait till we pass the burn phase, then I’ll use the gravcar’s thrusters to take us up, help decelerate us even more and get clear of the wreckage.  If you want to have any chance at getting down alive, this is the only way to do it.”

Wrex rumbled unhappily, but made no other comment.

The pilot’s heart thundered against his ribs, echoing in his ears.  His palms were sweaty.  He took a deep breath.  _I am a leaf on the wind…._   “Okay, hang on back there,” he said.  “One way or another, this is going to be one hell of a ride!”

*

Communications were down for days, and Liara was frantic.  She had stayed at the London FOB and managed her web of information as best she could despite the Reaper-induced interference, hoping it would provide some helpful insight, some slight advantage to their cause, but she’d lost it all when the Crucible fired.  Not only had the extra eyes and ears and fingers she had grown so accustomed to having suddenly been cut off, but her connection to Shepard, too.  And all the others, including the _Normandy_. 

Brief elation had rippled through those left on the ground as they watched the massive Reapers suddenly freeze, then seize up and topple over; their swarming throngs of husks collapsing into shapeless mounds of organic matter and dark nanite slime.  But the triumph was far too short-lived as the full impact of the Crucible blast became clear.  Friendly ships and Reapers alike rained from the sky like a terrible meteor shower that first day as gravity took those that had lost power a little too close to the planet.  Liara watched the fireballs arc across the heavens in dismay, fists clenched at her sides, knowing any one of those could be the _Normandy_. 

But the falling of the Citadel was the worst.  It tore through the atmosphere with a roar Liara could feel beneath her boots, its fire lighting up the hazy daylight like a beacon, the wash of heat felt for kilometers.  Its many pieces trailed long columns of thick black smoke, and when the nearest section hit the blast flattened buildings and sent dead Sovereign-class Reapers skittering away like dry leaves.  The nearest Reaper corpse to the FOB had come rolling out of the gloom and crushed half the buildings left standing and the fifteen officers who’d been inside them.  The impact of thousands of flaming, broken parts sounded like distant cannon fire; mushroom clouds bloomed on the horizon in every direction, and the dust and smoke billowed up to choke the already strangled sky. 

It had been like night ever since.

All technology had gone down when the Crucible fired. 

In the six days since, she had hardly slept or eaten.  She worked with the remaining technicians and communications officers to restore all systems… power generators for light and heat, computer terminals, communications, radar, data pads, omni-tools, power armor… all of it.  Such a hastily put-together command center, operating at bare minimums on the front line of the last battle of this cycle, had not been equipped with shielding.  All of it had gone.  And all of it was needed.

They worked on the heat and comms first.  With the sun hidden behind so much smoke and ash, temperatures had dropped rapidly.  She was always cold.  But she hardly noticed.  They had to get the base up and running again, and find the others.  Anyone left alive out there.  They needed shelter, and food and water, and medical attention…

So much to do.  So little time.

The comms went back online the evening of the sixth day, to heavy signs of relief and weary cries of triumph.  Yet again, the victory was too brief.  Immediately, the distress calls overwhelmed every frequency.  Calm monotones, frantic begging, shrill screaming; every imaginable voice was heard from every faction that had been there to fight.  They had scant few tanks and shuttles left in one piece, but those that remained scrambled as quickly as they could, moving out on rescue missions and search patterns.

Liara looked out into the black ruin, and her heart felt like it had gone still in her chest.  The looming, broken mass of the largest piece of the Citadel still burned far in the distance, like a torch of vigil for all that had been lost.  She bowed her head, thinking of all her missing friends, and made a silent promise.

_If you are out there, I will find you…_

*

On the ninth night, Liara finally succumbed to exhaustion.  She slept on a concrete slab in one of the classrooms of a tumbled school, wrapped in an aquathermia blanket beneath the partial roof.  She wore a medical mask over her mouth and nose even as she slept; the dust and ash in any space that wasn’t completely closed off to the outside was still thick enough to choke.

She dreamt of war and death, of searching through rubble till her hands bled.  She dreamt of her mother as she had been before indoctrination: strong and proud and wise.  She dreamt of her childhood, of her years studying the protheans, and then of Javik grasping her wrist and destroying all her previously held noble notions about his ancient race.  Everything bright had turned dark.  Every cycle had come to completion.  Extinction spread across the galaxy.  But then, out of the darkness, the sun rose again.  New life began in defiance of the Reaper harvest.  It wasn’t the end… never the end…

She startled awake to the sound of shouting and threw off the silvery blanket, jumping to her feet and scrubbing the sleep from her eyes.  She stumbled to the gaping hole that now served as the room’s doorway and leaned against the ragged edge, blinking in the dim orange glow of the lights outside.  Wisps of ash floated on the drifting breeze, swirling and lilting as if they were alive.  At the far end of the road, almost obscured by the gloom, a cluster of people had gathered.

She squinted, trying to see.

 **“** We need a medic stat!” an officer shouted, his voice cracking through the fragmented FOB.  “And get a shuttle prepped!”

Liara frowned.  A shuttle?  What for?  She began to walk forward, dust puffing around her feet with every step.  The crowd was moving in her direction, following whoever had their attention in the center.  She hadn’t gone far when that person finally shouldered past those in the front, heading doggedly for the area that had become their field hospital even as the lone medic came hurrying over, followed by several volunteers she had named as her assistants.

Liara inhaled sharply at the sight.  A krogan, unmistakably, still in full battle armor.  Limping heavily, slouched in obvious fatigue, his powersuit layered with sediment and stained with orange blood in several places.  The lights near his joints flickered as he moved, a sure sign the power supply was dangerously low.  But it was the lifeless form draped in the krogan’s thick arms that took her breath away: a woman clad in dark and battered armor, her helmet mis-matched and obscuring her features.  Her head lolled back, her arms dangled, and on the right shoulder a strikingly familiar patch of red and white color blazed through the murk like the morning star.

 **“** Goddess!” Liara breathed, falling to her knees in the roadway.  “Shepard!”

*


	8. Listen for Silence

* * *

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: "Torture" by Les Friction

* * *

When Shepard finally awoke aboard the hospital ship, she did not know the war was over.  It had taken four medics to restrain her and a double shot of sedative to calm her.  Even then she tossed and turned restlessly, insisting she had to get to the Conduit, babbling something about a final evolution, and repeatedly asking for Dr. Chakwas.  The medics and nurses cast uncertain glances to each other, unnerved by her condition.  They had never seen Commander Shepard like this.  Not even when she’d returned from her two-year deep cover mission during which the whole galaxy had thought she was dead.

The Chief Surgeon did his best to put her back together, and then he let Admiral Hackett know via QEC that she would live.  The Chief Neurologist and Head Psychologist tried to evaluate her, but the CT scan showed brain activity the neurologist had never seen before and the psychologist concluded from her nonsensical mutterings that she had probably experienced a break with reality.

All the doctors agreed that if she did not have such unusual cybernetic upgrades, the trauma she had experienced would have certainly killed her.  Even so, no one was sure it would be enough to allow for a full recovery. 

Admiral Hackett himself demanded daily updates on her status, and had his cruiser on a course for Earth at full sublight speed.

Wrex Urdnot stood guard outside her door, despite the fact there was nothing left for him to guard against and despite the fact the crew of the hospice vessel had tried as best they could to convince him that his “services” were not necessary.  He paid them no mind.  They had tried to get him to stay behind on Earth when Shepard had been brought up in the shuttle, too, but no one had been willing to deal with an angry krogan, so they’d eventually relented.

Once Wrex had given them the general area of the improvised gravcar landing, they had managed to retrieve the pilot Jeff Moreau from the wreckage as well.  The man had several broken bones and suffered a severe concussion, and after the shock and lack of food and water for several days, had lapsed into a coma.  They weren’t certain he would ever wake up.

No one was quite sure how the _Normandy_ ’s pilot, the leader of clan Urdnot, and Commander Shepard had ended up together in a gravcar covered with soil and rubble, and Wrex’s answers on the subject were short and vague.  Even in the absence of the extranet, rumor and speculation spread through the ship like wildfire.

But all they could do was watch, and wait, and tend to the multitude of other injured humans and aliens who flooded the ship in the aftermath.

*

Life support had been the first system fully repaired, followed by the sublight thrusters and navigation systems.  EDI had set the _Normandy_ on a course for Earth at the fastest possible speed even while other repairs were underway.  Sometimes they had to stop and power-down for a system to be rebooted, but otherwise they kept moving.  Back toward Earth.  The FTL drive was a delicate system best repaired while in dry-dock.  It would take them months to reach Earth even from the short distance they had jumped, and all agreed it was best to start the journey as soon as possible, even if it meant periodic stops along the way.

The skeleton crew still left aboard worked night and day, running themselves ragged.  Many fell asleep at the table during mess, or even worse, while using the head.  With no way to know the status of the rest of the Fleet, Earth, or even if the war had actually been won, the _Normandy_ coasted through the dark of uncertainty for three long weeks as her communications were painstakingly restored.

On the day they finally succeeded in re-establishing the QEC uplink and checked in with a very relieved Admiral Hackett, Dr. Chakwas generously shared her store of Serrice Ice Brandy with the crew, and they had a small yet raucous celebration.  Chakwas herself took only a few sips, her heart lurching at the memories of the times she and Shepard had shared a bottle.  The recollections were as warm and fiery as the alcohol that slid down her throat. 

Hackett had announced that the war was won, but the victory costly.  Most of Earth’s cities had been obliterated, infrastructures destroyed.  Only the most rural of areas had escaped the Reaper’s caustic touch.  Half of the great multi-species fleet that had gathered for the final push was gone.  The mass relays appeared to have overloaded and ceased functioning, trapping millions in a system half a galaxy away from their homes.  The Citadel itself had fallen from the sky, plummeting to Earth in a thousand deadly pieces, raining fire and devastation on an already-scarred planet.  And Shepard… Shepard was alive, but Hackett wouldn’t elaborate on her condition.  Claimed it was classified.  Already they had begun spinning their sticky PR web.

But Chakwas had seen the way his mouth tightened when she’d asked the question.  The way his hard blue eyes had narrowed just slightly.  Not good.  And Joker.  They had him too, stable and alive they said, but just barely.  Also not good.  She hadn’t yet figured out how Wrex had ended up aboard the hospital ship as well, but the idea gave her some shred of comfort, somehow.  The krogan had always seemed to have a certain affinity for Shepard.  He would keep an eye on her… perhaps better than any doctor could.

Chakwas slipped away from the celebration and sought the reassuring quiet of the medbay, her gaze going as it always did to the sole patient sleeping on one of the beds along the right wall.  She took the stool next to him and sighed heavily, swirling the remains of her brandy in her glass as she activated her omni-tool and initiated another vitals scan.

Weak, as they had been since the beginning, but  
stable.  Alenko’s burns were healing, though not as nicely as they would have in a fully-stocked, ground-based hospital.  She had the supplies to fully minimize the scarring, but she was hesitant to use so many resources on one patient when they were still so far from Earth.  Sure, the war may have been declared officially over, but she wasn’t about to become lax in her rationing, just in case.

He had an acute case of solar retinopathy, likely due to his close proximity to Harbinger’s intensely bright beam, and had suffered permanent retinal burns in both eyes.  She did not have the supplies on hand to treat that particular ailment, but it was still possible it could be remedied if they ever reached a hospital that had not yet been emptied out.  The concussion had been cured, but she needed a second opinion regarding his amp jack.  As much as she had worked with biotics, she was still far from being an expert.  She was reluctant to attempt much repair on the jack itself.  She needed an asari’s advice, ideally.  Unfortunately, not many of them had shown up for the Battle for Earth.

She had put out a call to the London FOB, knowing Liara T’soni had been there at one point, and hoped she would get a call back soon.  In the meantime, she tried to keep the major as comfortable as possible.

Chakwas shut down her omni-tool, taking another sip of her drink.  She watched Alenko’s slow, deep breathing, studied the soft glow of the dimmed lights across his gaunt, stubble-shadowed face, and frowned.  He rose to consciousness every now and then, and was even lucid at times.  Always the first question on his lips was about Joker’s rescue mission and if had they found Shepard yet.  Until today, she had always been forced to admit they had no news.

The confession had always sobered him, but even in his unfocused eyes she caught the gleam of determination, the spark of hope.  He clung to his desperate belief that Shepard still lived like a life-raft in a rough and stormy sea, and there were many days she was convinced that was the only thing that pulled him through.

And now she knew Shepard was alive.  But she didn’t know if Shepard would _stay_ alive.

She downed the rest of the brandy and set the glass down gently on the adjoining bed, running a hand through smooth gray hair. 

She had seen what losing Shepard over Alchera had done to Alenko three years ago; watched the way he had silently broken into pieces, so stoic in his grief that only those who had known him best could even guess at the depth of his agony.  But she had seen it.  In the few weeks before everyone had been divided and reassigned, before the bereavement period had officially started, she’d seen it reflected in every wooden movement, every quiet word.

If she were to confirm his wildest hopes and tell him that Shepard had been found, that his ludicrous idea for evac from the Citadel had actually _worked_ , that she was alive… only for her to die later of some complication or sustained injury….

Chakwas shook her head, dropping it into her hands.  No good.  She’d lose him too, she was almost certain of it.  And regardless of the reason, she didn’t take well to losing patients.

On the other hand, how could she lie?  Was it worth it to let him keep on hoping for however long it took them to get back to Earth?  For however long it took to be sure Shepard was stable?

Alenko shifted, startling her, his eyelids fluttering open.  She sat bolt upright on the stool, her stomach clenching.  He glanced around, his dark eyes finally coming to rest in her general direction.  She swallowed hard, knowing she was about to be forced into making a decision.

He squinted.  “Doc?”  His voice was rough, thick.

 **“** Yes.  I’m here.”  His coherent moments were getting longer and more frequent.  A good sign.  Even if it meant she’d have to answer his same questions more often.

He lifted a hand and turned it over in front of his face experimentally, but she could tell from his frown that his vision hadn’t improved.  “How long now?” he asked.

 **“** Three weeks since the Crucible fired.  EDI estimates another two months before we reach Earth-orbit.”

He swallowed visibly, keeping his blank gaze on the ceiling.  “And?  Any word yet?”

For a moment Chakwas was frozen with indecision.  She cleared her throat, a small sigh escaping as she opened her mouth.  “No.  I’m sorry, Major.  Nothing yet.”  She cringed even as the words left her lips, and for once she was glad he couldn’t see her.

*

 

 

 


	9. In the Darkest Hour

* * *

 

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK: I searched everywhere, and never found a suitable song for this one. If you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know!

* * *

Roughly three months from the day the Crucible had fired and destroyed the Reapers, Shepard sat in an ergonomic chair, dressed in a soft, loose-fitting hospital gown, staring out the small, square window at the planet below.  She’d been told this was the only medical ship to have failed to jump at Hackett’s retreat command, and which had also been just far enough from Earth’s gravity well to avoid being sucked down when the Crucible had knocked out its engines.

It still wasn’t running at a hundred percent, not by far.  But it was a good deal better than most hospitals still left on Earth.  As such, it was a veritable mass of activity, every room and hallway crowded with the injured and dying and sick.  Shuttles outside zipped constantly back and forth, transporting more people and supplies from ship to ship, ship to planet, planet to ship.

The only refuge from the madness was this room.  Her room.  She had urged the doctors to use the space as they needed, and they had thanked her, but had not complied.  They all treated her like a fragile china doll.  Their eyes were wide with reverence and awe when they looked at her, but she sensed fear and doubt there as well.  They walked on eggshells in her presence.  Spoke to her as if she were a small child.  She had a notion they all suspected she was unstable.  Like she might explode at any second if mishandled.

Shepard released a slow breath through her teeth, one pale hand coming up to rub her forehead.  Perhaps she _would_ explode.  Her fingers still trembled as they slid around to the back of her neck and brushed over her empty amp-jack.  She had regained full consciousness weeks ago, but often it still felt as if she was living in a dream. 

The edges of reality were foggy, but all the small, insignificant details abnormally sharp.  The antiseptic smell, the microscopic scratches on the vitals monitor sitting in the corner.  Shoe scuffs on the white of the floor, wrinkles in the bedsheets, the monotone of doctors in deep conversation as they briefly passed her closed door.

She felt like an outsider looking in, completely removed from everything happening around her.  Her injuries had mostly healed, but she was still exhausted.  Always tired.  Her insides felt empty, wrung out, drained.  She had nothing left.  It was all gone.

When she had first heard the tale of how she’d been rescued from the Citadel, she hadn’t believed it.  Especially coming from Joker.  But his story was verified by Wrex, and she hadn’t been able to find the space station in the skies above Earth, nor had she seen any sign of the _Normandy_. 

Joker had left his ship to go after her.  Had almost _died_ to save her. 

And Traynor, Higgs, Marshall, Murtz and Ferguson were gone.  Because of her.  Five for one.  Not right.

She dropped her head into her hands, feeling nauseous.  She had never asked to be rescued.  Never wanted it.  She had been prepared to die, to sacrifice herself for the end of the cycle.  It had been liberating, in that single second before she had stepped off into the light, to know she would be free, finally, from all the nightmares – the guilt and ghosts, the hard decisions, the desire to fix everything.

But instead, five people had died trying to save her.  One had been severely injured.  And another had carried her through the rubble for nine days straight to bring her as quickly as possible to medical attention.

Her eyes stung, but she had no more tears.  She felt like Earth looked… wasted and gray, pock-marked and scarred, shrouded with fuming storm clouds.  Vakarian’s rifle and Vega’s beloved Vera had been left in the wreckage of the gravcar.  Her armor had been scrapped.  The crew that been groundside was still mostly MIA, except for Liara, who had managed to visit once.  Hackett only told her to get some rest and that the _Normandy_ and the rest of the Fleet were whole and en-route, but he wouldn’t elaborate on the condition of any crew.

Shepard glanced over her shoulder to the small table next to her bed, where the crystal Urdnot Bakara had given her sat.  It was the only personal item she had left.  She had carried it in one of her belt pouches every time she went into battle, to remind her of what Eve had said.

_In the darkest hour, there is always a way out._

So many people looked to Commander Shepard for hope, but who did she have to look to?

The crystal was a symbol of hope, courage, determination, perseverance, strength… everything Shepard wanted to be.  She carried it to help her remember.

Now, it seemed just a piece of pretty stone, the reflection of light in its facets dulled.  The war was over.  She should have been happy, relieved, grateful.  Instead, she was simply… hollow.  The whole world seemed dark, and she saw no way out.

*

Shepard awoke sometime later and groaned as she realized she had fallen asleep in the chair again.  She grimaced at the crick in her neck, rubbing at the knotted muscles.  She blinked the grogginess away and stretched, then slowly pushed herself standing.  She didn’t bother to look at the chronometer on the wall; time had little meaning for her anymore.  She walked stiffly to the window; vague aches still shooting through her right thigh where the Marauder’s rounds had buried.  She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, drinking in the vast expanse of space, ignoring the restless movements of the shuttles.

She sighed, her breath fogging briefly against the smooth pane.

A flash of blue caught in her peripheral vision.  She frowned, turning her head to look down the length of the hospital vessel.  One of the airlocks was visible from her vantage point and she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the sleek frigate nestled there, resplendent in its blue and gray Alliance markings. A rush of warmth spread through her limbs at its familiarity, and for the first time since waking up after the Citadel she felt _alive_.

Shepard spun away from the window, hobbling as quickly as she could manage to her door.  She burst out into the hallway to the surprised starts and stares of several doctors, many nurses and even more patients.  She clutched her gown around her and took off barefoot down the corridor, making straight for Joker’s room.

She startled him too as she barged through the door, and everyone else the pilot had to share his space with.  Even as the famous helmsman of the legendary _Normandy_ , he was no Commander Shepard, and wasn’t granted the luxury of a private room.

“Joker!” she blurted.

He stared at her, hazel eyes huge and worried as his skin paled beneath his now fully-grown beard.  “What?!”

“She’s _here_!”  The words became strangled in her chest, making it difficult to speak.

“What?”

Shepard shook her head, limping over to the wall to unfold a wheelchair.  She flung his tray of food to the floor and pushed away the bedside table.

“Hey, what the hell?” the man protested.  “I was eating that!”

She pointed at the wheelchair, then grabbed hold of his arms and attempted to physically drag him out of bed.  There had been a time when such a feat would have been as easy as lifting a child, but she had refused both food and physical therapy in the past three months and her clumsy effort almost sent both of them crashing to the floor.

“Hey hey!  Take it easy!” Joker snapped.  “I’ve had enough broken bones to last a lifetime, thank you.  Don’t get your knickers all in a knot –“

“The _Normandy_ , Joker!” she finally managed, the urgency building inside of her until she felt the prickle of biotics across her skin.  She ignored the open-mouthed gapes of the rest of the room’s occupants and gestured wildly in the direction of the aft airlock.  “She’s _here_!”

Joker’s mouth snapped shut with a click, his eyes becoming sharply focused.  “Well why didn’t you say so in the first place?”  He slid deftly into the seat of the wheelchair and pointed at the door.  “Okay let’s go.  Mush!”

Shepard took them both down the winding corridors of the massive vessel, following the markings along the walls for guidance.  With all the commotion, she got much further along than she had expected before she was recognized and intercepted.  They tried to block her path, to tell her she shouldn’t be up and about, much less shambling along at that speed pushing a wheelchair, but she only clenched her jaw and barreled right past them.

They followed after her, still voicing their protests, but none was willing to lay a hand on her.  The blue-black distortion of her biotic field rippled weakly across her skin, a fair enough warning that she wouldn’t be stopped.  They didn’t have to know her amp-less biotic ability wasn’t likely to hurt them much.  Joker added to their hesitation by boisterously warning that everyone get out of their way, because Shepard had stared down a thresher maw _and_ a Reaper face to face and lived to tell about it.  And they didn’t want to piss off someone like that, did they?

They had almost reached the airlock when a lone figure stepped out into the hall, blocking their path.

Shepard prepared to bully past this person as she had the others, but at the last minute recognition dawned and she pulled up short just before bumping into Chakwas’ shins.

The gaggle of concerned medical professionals behind them stopped as well, suddenly falling silent.

Joker looked up to the gray-haired woman standing with arms crossed and eyes narrowed and swallowed hard.  “Uh-oh.”

Shepard met the doctor’s cool blue eyes, her mouth falling open to ask the question that had been burning in her mind since she’d found out she wasn’t dead, after all.

But Karin already knew what Elizabeth would ask.  She gave the smallest of nods and pointed to a room across the hall.

And suddenly, Shepard was afraid.  She gripped the handles of the wheelchair to keep herself from falling, her palms sweaty.  Her heart pounded in her throat, her chest constricting to squeeze out every hard and gasping breath.  She stared at the closed door.  Forced her fingers to unclench.  Took one, stiff step forward.

“What about my ship?” Joker demanded.  “I want to see my ship!”

“I’ll take you,” Chakwas said softly.  She wheeled him away toward the airlock, leaving the group of nurses and technicians staring after her.

Shepard focused only on the door.  The rest of the ship and everyone on it faded away.  Her heartbeat echoed in the silence that roared in her head.  She stared at the control panel.  One touch and it would open.  She would see him again, finally.  Confirm that he still lived.  Embrace the future they could have together – the future she had so desperately ached for and yet always believed was just out of reach.

One touch and she would open herself up again.  Become vulnerable to loss and hurt again. 

_The war is over._

But the fight for survival had just begun.

_He’s worth it._

Elizabeth took a deep breath and pushed the button. 

*

Kaidan turned his head sharply at the bare whisper of the opening and closing of the door.  His sense of hearing and touch had become considerably more attuned in the last few months, but not being able to see much beyond fuzzy gray shapes was still disorienting.  Chakwas had assured him the damage was repairable, as long he didn’t mind a little cybernetic work.

The talk of cybernetics had just reminded him of Shepard, and his heart shoved up his throat.  She was on this ship somewhere, they’d told him.  He could see her soon enough, but they wanted to get him into surgery as soon as possible… the longer they waited for the skin grafting and retina rebuilding, the harder the recovery.

He watched the dark shape of the person moving across the room, but they said nothing.  He squinted instinctively, to no avail.  “Hello?” he asked tentatively into the quiet.  “Who is it?” 

Another long silence stretched through the room and a touch of concern crawled through his gut.

“Kaidan,” a voice suddenly whispered, breaking.  A voice he would have recognized anywhere.

Goosebumps raced down his skin and his mouth dropped open, words utterly failing him.  And then she was on top of him, arms wrapped tight around his neck, clutching him to her with all the strength she had left.

An unidentifiable noise escaped him; his arms wrapped her in a crushing hold, his face buried into the crook of her neck. 

Shepard couldn’t stop the tears and barely noticed the wetness soaking into the shoulder of her gown.  She breathed in his smell, reveled in the feel of his skin against hers, the coarseness of his stubble on her cheek, the feel of his hair beneath her fingers.

“Goddamnnit,” he rasped gruffly, finally, pulling back from her to study her face with sightless eyes.  His cheeks were wet with tears.  “ _Never again_ , do you understand me?  Never leave me again.  Promise me… never again!”

Elizabeth took his hands in hers and gripped them hard, leaning down to plant a kiss that tasted of their tears.  “I promise,” she whispered against his lips.  “I promise, Kaidan.  Never again.”

*

 

 


End file.
